The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1887-06-16

better than we deserved to be treated; but if |
on the dying pillow there shall break the
light of that better world, we shall have no
more regret about leaving a small, dark,
damp house for one large, beautiful and ca
pacous. That dying minister in Philadelphia,
some years ago, beautifully depicted it when, |
in the last moment, he threw up his hands |
and cried out:
II move into the lgnt!"
Pass on now and will show you one more |
picture, and that is Stephen asleep With
pathos and simplicity peculiar to the Scrip
lures the text says of Stephen: "He fell
asleep" "Oh," you say, what place that
was to sleepI A hard rock under him, stones
falling down upon him, the blood streaming,
the mob bowling What place it was to
sleep!" And yet my text takes that symbol
of sumber to describe his departure, so sweet
was it, SO contented was it, SO peaceful was
it, Stephen had lived very laborious life.
His chief work had been to care for the poor.
How many loaves of bread he distributed,
how many bare feet he had sandaled, how
many cots of sickness and distress he blessed
with ministries of kindness and love, do not
know, but from the way he lived, and the
way he preached, and the way he died, L
know he was a aborious Christian. But that
is all over now. He has pressed the cup to
the last fainting lip.
He has taken the last insult from his enc
miles, The last stone to whose crushing
weight he is susceptible has been hurled.
Stephen is dead The disciples come. They
take him up. They wash away the blood
from the wounds. They straighten out the
bruised limbs They brush back the tangled
hair from the brow, and then they pass
around to look upon the calm countenance OF
him who had lived for the poor and died for
the truth Stephen asleep have seen the
sea driven with the hurricane until the
taneleda foam caught in the rigging, and
wave rising above wave seemed as II about TO
storm the heavens and then ] have seen the
tempest drop. and the waves crouch, and
every thing become smooth and FURNISHED as
though camping place for the glories OF
heaven. So | have seen man, whose lie
has been tossed and driven, coming down at
last to an infinite calm, in which there was
the hush of heavens lullaby Stephen asleep!
saw such an one He fought all his days
against poverty and against abuse. They
traduced his name. They ratified at the door
knob while he was dying, with duns for debts
he could not pay; yet the peace of God
brooded over his pillow, and while the world
faded, heaven dawned, and the deepening
twilight of earth's night was only the open
ing twilight of heavens morn. Not sigh.
Not tear Not struggle. Hush! Stephen
asleepl
have not the faculty to tell the weather.
I can never tell by the setting sun whether
there will be drought or not cannot tell
by the blowing of the wind whether it will
be fair weather or foul on the morrow But
1 can prophesy, and l will prophesy what
weather it will be when you, the Christian,
come to die. You may have it very rough
| now. It may be this week one annoyance,
the next another annoyance. 1t may be this
year one bereavement, the next another be-
reavement. Before this year has passed you
may have to beg for bread, or ask for scuttle
of coal or a pair Of shoes; but spread your
death couch amid the leaves of the forest or
make it out of the straw of q paupers hut,
the wolf in the jungle bowling close by, or
inexorable creditors jerking the pillow from
under your dying head, Christ will come in
and darkness will go out. And though there
may be no hand to close your eyes aid no
| breast ON which to rest your dying head and
no candle to lift the night, the odors of Gods
hanging garden will regaie your soul and at
your bedside will halt the chariets of the
king No more rents to pay, no more agony
because -four has gone up, no more struggle
with ''the world, the flesh and the devil" bss
peace-long, deep, everlasting peace. Stephen
asleepi
ASLEEP in Jesus, blessed sleep,
From which none ever wake to weep;
A calm and undsturbed repose,
Uninjured by the last of foes.
.!Asleep in Jesus, far from thee
Thy kindred and their graves may be;
But there is still a blessed sleep,
From which none ever wake to weep"
You have seen enough for one morning.
No one can successfully examine more than
five pictures In day. Therefore we STOP
having seen this cluster of divine Raphaels-
Stephen gazing into heaven; Stephen looking
at Christ; Stephen stoned; Stephen in his
dying prayer; Stephen asleep.